


Between Midnight and Waking

by Medie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Community: help_haiti, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-05
Updated: 2010-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew the dark-eyed, quiet girl who'd filled her world with the music of alien stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Midnight and Waking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grey_Bard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grey_Bard/gifts).



> written for [](http://grey-bard.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**grey_bard**](http://grey-bard.dreamwidth.org/) for [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=help_haiti)[**help_haiti**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/userinfo?user=help_haiti). My thanks to [](http://azarsuerte.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**azarsuerte**](http://azarsuerte.dreamwidth.org/) and any remaining memories are totally mine. Title comes from ["The Things We Become"](http://community.livejournal.com/breathe_poetry/332183.html) by Scott Owens

The second she walked in, Nyota knew. Nyota always knew. Not because everyone stopped, staring, although they always did - no matter how subtle Commander Spock's entrance, she still had the eye of nearly everyone in the room - but because she just did. There was no reason for it, but she did.

She'd always known Spock. At least, it seemed that way. Even before the commander chose to buck tradition, forgoing the Vulcan-only ships of her peers to integrate into the Fleet. Before even her personal story made her a media darling.

Before everyone seemed to have an opinion on the legend in the making. Her name and her story made her the target of much media attention. It always had. Being the daughter of the greatest love story of the 23rd century didn't hurt. People loved a good love story and the marriage of Ambassador Sarek and the Lady Amanda was nothing if not that.

Every week there seemed to be a new article in some publication speculating on the young legend in the making. Spock's name, her social standing, her rebellion in attending the Terran campus of the Academy and, even more scandalous, choosing to serve among them all bundled together to make her a media darling.

It didn't hurt that she was stunningly beautiful either.

Nyota didn't care about any of it. She knew the dark-eyed, quiet girl who'd filled her world with the music of alien stars.

"_Nyota_."

The impatience laced through Gaila's voice said it wasn't the first time she'd called Nyota's name. Turning, Nyota found her friend watching her with fond exasperation.

"Sorry," she said. "I was -- "

"Staring at Commander Spock?" Gaila said, matter-of-fact. It wasn't precisely a new phenomenon. "Yes, I know." She nudged her toward the buffet that made the restaurant so beloved. "It is our turn."

Nyota picked up her tray and followed Gaila into line. Still, she snuck a peek over her shoulder, watching Spock's progress into the restaurant.

The commander stood just a few paces from the door, in uniform, regarding the room with interest. If she saw Nyota, however, Spock gave no sign. Rather, she turned to speak to someone.

Nyota tried not to be disappointed by that. It didn't make any sense to be, Spock didn't know her, probably didn't remember their brief meeting. Spock certainly hadn't spent her childhood and adolescence daydreaming over a schoolgirl crush.

Most days, now, Nyota found it funny. Cute. She'd been convinced that she was the only girl in all the worlds that truly understood Spock and that, some day, they would marry and live in a little house together. Not one of those forbidding Vulcan estates, just a little house with a garden and a library and a sehlat.

She stepped into line and looked back yet again. Spock was still speaking to a tall woman in command gold. They were familiar, but only so much as Spock was familiar with anyone and Nyota was absolutely not relieved by that.

She knew it was, pardon the pun, illogical to the extreme, but to look at Spock was to feel the same way. A tiny, illicit thrill of _mine_ that snaked down deep. Down to touch and awaken places that her child-self couldn't have even imagined.

"You're staring," Gaila said.

Nyota yanked her head back around and focused on the buffet before her. She breathed out and tried to look anything but conspicuous. "No," she said, lowering her voice in hope that certain sharp-ears wouldn't overhear, "I'm not."

"You should introduce yourself, instead of lurking like you do," Gaila said, licking cream from her finger. She tipped her head, red curls spilling across her shoulder, as she considered the array of desserts brought in from the city. "It might be pleasing to her to see you again."

Nyota shook her head, pouring her own coffee. "She wouldn't remember me." They'd met for a couple hours over a decade ago. It just didn't make sense.

"You said she accompanied you on the lyre," Gaila looked over. She smiled. "I have heard you sing, Nyota. I cannot believe a Vulcan would forget it."

With a smile, Nyota picked up her tray. "Thanks, Gaila, but it's different. I know Spock. She's an accomplished musician and an ambassador's daughter. She's probably played a hundred receptions in a hundred embassies with a hundred local girls singing their little hearts out. I doubt that I'd stand out."

"You would be incorrect in such an assumption," Spock said, surprising both women. Reaching between them, the tall woman selected an apple and placed it on her tray. "I remember you quite clearly. Your voice was exquisite, Lieutenant Uhura."

Nyota turned, slowly, praying her composure held. Up close, Spock was resplendent. She wore the same uniform as every single instructor on campus, but on her, it was different. It clung to a body honed by a harsh, forbidding climate into a shape that was long and lean while, atop her head, hair as black as midnight gleamed.

A highborn Vulcan woman to the last. Nyota breathed in, then out, and tried to ignore the itch in her fingers. She wanted to see that hair loose, run her fingers through it, feel the weight of Spock's head in her lap, her body boneless against her.

She swallowed and blinked away the fantasy.

She was staring; she wasn't alone. Commander Spock was watching her, dark eyes so _intent_ that Nyota felt frozen and trapped by that regard, and she felt naked beneath that regard.

"Thank you," she managed to say. Her tongue stumbled over the words and Nyota flinched. How many languages and two little words in Standard were beyond her. "It's good to see you again."

"Yes," Spock said and, possibly, her gaze warmed. "It is. Join me?" It was, ostensibly, a request, but being Spock, it also sounded like a command. Commander Spock had a way about her like that, it seemed. Commands became polite requests or, more likely, polite requests served as convenient disguises for commands.

If that were the case, and it was too early to tell, Nyota had no objections either way on the matter. Well, almost none. She looked to Gaila, ready to beg off, but Gaila was gone. She was already halfway across the room headed for, oh god, Kirk and that doctor friend of his.

"It appears," Spock said, sounding just the faintest bit, well, _smug_, "that you have lost your dining companion. As self-serving as it appears, might I offer myself as a potential replacement?"

Nyota forced a cheerful smile. She wouldn't insult the woman by trying to be anything but what she was and, somehow, she had a feeling that's precisely how Spock would view any attempt to the contrary.

"Thank you, Commander," she said. "I think I would."

-

"You really didn't need to do this, Commander," Nyota said as they presented their identification, were scanned, and permitted onto the Academy grounds. "I can find my way back perfectly well."

"Of that I am aware, Lieutenant," Spock replied. She nodded at a passing instructor. "However, I have calculated that you will be point-oh-seven-six seconds late arriving at your dormitory. You will, therefore, require an instructor's override to gain access and, after gaining said access, you will be required to explain your tardiness. It seems only logical that as I am the reason for your tardiness, I offer that explanation."

There was a slight pause and then she looked at Nyota. Her expression remained even, but Nyota still had the sense of mischief. "As well, I am told it is customary to see you to your door."

Understandably, it took a few seconds for Nyota to catch on. When she did she missed a step and stumbled. She thought, all things considered, it was understandable.

Spock's hand closed around her elbow, easily holding her up, while her face formed the very picture of contrite apology. "I must ask forgiveness, Lieutenant, my attempt at humor was clearly misplaced."

"No," Nyota said, "no it wasn't. It was just unexpected. I didn't think -- " she shrugged. "Vulcans aren't known for their sense of humor."

"No," Spock agreed, "we are not. However, I have made a practice of experimenting with Terran culture."

"And you felt like trying a joke?" Nyota asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Spock said, nodding. "It is more accurate to say that my goal was a humorous spin on an understood truth. I believe, however, I failed in my attempt. Rather than laughter, I elicited shock."

Now, Nyota did laugh. "I just was unaware that we were on a date."

"Ah," Spock stopped. "Your point is a valid one that I had not considered. The unexpected nature of humor required a lack of explanation on my part which, ironically, invalidated the attempt. However, it seems that explaining has elicited your laughter at any rate."

"Yes, it did," Noyta said, still laughing. "It's just hearing you deconstructing the whole thing like it's a serious scientific experiment."

"Ah, yes," Spock nodded. "If I understand the concept correctly, this would make me the 'straight man' as it were?"

"It would," Nyota said. "At least, in this particular moment." She grinned. "My roommate would say that job usually belongs to me." Arriving at the dormitory building, she watched Spock enter the appropriate codes.

"She deems you unnaturally serious?"

"Oh, and then some," Nyota said. "She thinks I work too hard and play too little."

"And is she correct?" Spock asked. The door had slid open, permitting entrance, but neither of them even so much as looked at it. "You do not seem overly driven, Lieutenant, but I admit, I am not an accurate judge of such in humans."

"Neither am I," Nyota said, smiling. She thought about it, really thought, which surprised her. It wasn't something she gave much thought to. She went out, she had fun, she didn't overwork herself. She carried a heavier course load than most cadets, but she _liked_ it that way. "I prefer being busy, but I miss singing. I haven't really since I came to the Academy."

Thinking of singing brought a question to mind. "Do you play much anymore?"

"No, unfortunately, I do not."

"Then that'll be our second date," Nyota announced, laughing.

For the second time that day, Spock shocked her by nodding seriously. "Agreed."

-

And that, ostensibly, was how it started. Nyota wasn't quite sure what 'it' was, but she knew there was most certainly an it and it was all a little Victorian, really.

Each time she met the Commander (and, for Nyota, that was precisely how she saw Spock. If she didn't keep to the safe formality of rank and title, there was a risk. A risk that she might slip and that could _never_ happen.) Nyota thought the whole affair could have jumped off the pages of a Jane Austen novel.

Which was a thought unto itself. Fitting. Spock was a classically trained Vulcan woman. With her ears tucked out of sight, dressed in period garb, she might've been indistinguishable from an Austen heroine and if that made Nyota's cheeks heat, well, she couldn't be blamed.

After all, such imaginings did cast her as the dashing suitor. She'd never thought of herself as a dashing suitor, but, well, at the moment she couldn't deny the possible parallels.

"This is probably very inappropriate," she said, by way of greeting, chiming Spock's door, "but -- "

The gate unlocked before she could finish.

Not unlike most others, Spock preferred to maintain her own apartment in the city. One set apart from cadet and instructor lodgings alike. It gave her a certain freedom, Nyota imagined, but more than that a certain privacy.

Her choice of apartment buildings suggested that much. The gate, the high ironwork fence and the trees which hugged against it, made her wishes abundantly clear.

Nyota stepped inside and found herself surprised. Protected from view by the thick stands of trees was a small, immaculately maintained rose garden.

"My mother's favorites," Spock said from the door. "She insisted I take one with me upon my admission into Starfleet." She stepped out onto the small path to look at the flowers with something that, for a Vulcan, was probably undisguised affection. "I confess my skills as a gardener are somewhat insufficient, however the plant has flourished despite that shortcoming."

"They're beautiful," Nyota agreed. "You've lived here the entire time?"

Spock nodded. "When posted to Earth, yes. My estate manager arranged the purchase of the apartment prior to my arrival." Her gaze shifted from the plants to Nyota. Her expression shifted, transmuted, into a look that she couldn't identify.

Nyota found herself wondering if this had been how Amanda had felt. Translating the mysteries of the Vulcan face, plumbing for the tiny variances that suggested their deeply controlled emotions, in the search to understand the ambassador's view of her.

She felt her cheeks heat. Embarrassed by her own fantasies. She was a cadet; Spock an instructor. There could hardly be anything between them. Certainly nothing worthy of comparison to Spock's parents.

Still, she watched Spock and kept right on comparing. She certainly wasn't alone in that regard, half the campus was nursing a crush on the formidable Commander Spock, but she was the only one standing in the woman's garden.

"It's beautiful," Nyota said, belatedly answering Spock's comment. She looked at her and thought she saw the woman shiver. Taking a closer look, she realized Spock had a thick sweater wrapped around her shoulders and was subtly holding it against her body. Feigning an elaborate shiver of her own, she smiled just a little. "It's a little chilly out here, do you mind -- ?"

"I do not," Spock said with, maybe, no little relief and gestured Nyota inside the apartment.

"It doesn't matter how long I live here," Nyota said, letting Spock lead her through the door, "I never quite get used to that chill."

"Indeed," Spock admitted. "Despite my Terran ancestry, I have never quite grown accustomed to the temperatures here."

"I can imagine," Nyota agreed. She shrugged out of her coat, letting Spock whisk it away. "I never understood why the Vulcan compound was originally in Sausalito. Your people must've been freezing."

"Quite," Spock said. "I have often wondered why a better location was not suggested. Captain Pike informs me that Death Valley would have made a far more logical choice."

Nyota giggled, but nodded. "Irony aside, he's probably right."

"Yes, most likely," Spock said. She disappeared into the kitchen. "However," her voice floated back, "I would suggest you not tell him so. The captain can be quite insufferable when he is pleased with himself."

After a moment's hesitation, Nyota followed. Spock hadn't indicated that she should, but she hadn't indicated she shouldn't, and she took that absence as a de facto approval. "I won't," she said, keeping to the kitchen door, "I promise."

"Thank you," Spock said, ever polite. "Would you wish refreshment, Lieutenant? I do not keep many Terran beverages on hand, however there is Saya available."

It was an oversight, Nyota suspected, Spock would correct in the future. She bit her cheek against the urge to smile. "Saya would be fine, thank you."

"Heated or chilled?" Spock asked. She was already reaching for mugs, moving around the small kitchen with brisk, efficient movements.

"Either is fine," Nyota said. "You don't need to put yourself out for me, Commander."

"Spock."

Nyota's eyebrow crept up. "Pardon?"

"We are, neither of us, in uniform. It seems logical, then, that you refer to me by my given name," Spock filled a glass with the famed Vulcan fruit-water and passed it to her.

"Then you should do the same," Nyota said. She sipped the drink, smiled, then took a larger swallow. "Call me Nyota."

"Very well," Spock said. "Nyota."

By her very profession, Nyota knew that words had power. They had the ability to change the world with just a few syllables. Empires rose and fell around them, on them, so it shouldn't have been a surprise and yet it was.

Hearing her name from Spock's lips, so carefully and deliberately said, Nyota wasn't ready for the way it sounded. It was more than her name, almost a caress, and a shiver ran through her with the hearing of it.

Her own voice shook as Nyota responded, "Very well," she agreed, echoing her, "Spock."

-

"Hey!" Gaila said, bouncing into their dorm room. "Did you hear?"

Nyota looked up from the padd she'd been reading. Not studying, just reading. Andorian folk songs that Spock had recommended to her as a suitable project for them. She hummed the melody of one as she watched Gaila shed her uniform and change into her favorite sweater. Spock wasn't the only one who found San Francisco temperatures to be chilly. "Hear what?" she asked.

"Your girlfriend's parents are coming to town."

Nyota was halfway into her usual "Commander Spock is _not_ my girlfriend" denials, ignoring the way her heart always skipped a few beats at the reference anyway, when the rest of Gaila's statement sank in. "Wait, _what_?"

Finished changing, Gaila flopped onto her bed. "Ambassador Sarek and the Lady Amanda will be visiting San Francisco next week. Spock didn't tell you?"

"No," Nyota responded. "Maybe she didn't know."

"It's possible," Gaila said. "The Ambassador's supposed to be having some kind of high level meeting with the Commander in Chief and the President." She waved her hands. "Totally hush-hush so, of course, everyone knows."

"Except Spock," Nyota said.

"Maybe," Gaila picked her shirt up from the floor, folding it carefully. "You know how private Vulcans are." She got up to put the shirt away. "Maybe she doesn't want to pressure you. Doesn't an introduction to family constitute some sort of significance about a romantic entanglement?"

"We're not _in_ a romantic en--" Nyota threw her hands in the air. "We're not having this conversation, Gaila."

"So you keep insisting," Gaila affirmed. She picked up a few more things. "However, we keep finding ourselves here." Clothing in hand, she crouched before Nyota's chair. "You have always had feelings for her."

"I had a crush on someone I didn't know," Nyota said. "I know her now." And loved her all the more for it. Or, at least, she thought she was starting to. She sighed. "It's complicated, Gaila."

Gaila rolled her eyes. "It is complicated because you wish it to be so."

Nyota nearly argued, but she understood what Gaila meant. "It's just not that easy for us to discuss things like this. At least, not that easy for some of us."

She wanted it to be, oh how she wanted it to be, but still --

"No, it isn't," Gaila agreed. "Not for any of us." One of the things Nyota loved about Gaila was her acceptance that there were no easy answers, or quick fixes, not for anyone. "Talk to her, Nyota." She got up again, bustling around the room.

"Besides," she said, turning back to toss a merry grin Nyota's way. "I'm sick of your moping."

-

"No," Spock said, "I was aware." She turned her head in the direction of her terminal. "Mother messaged me upon her arrival this morning." She turned, her braid flicking out with the unexpected movement. It was the closest to seeing her hair down that Nyota had come and, she realized, there was a reason why.

She glanced at the chronometer and winced. It was late. _Very_ late. She hadn't thought about that when she'd rushed out. "I interrupted, didn't I?" she asked. "You were getting ready to sleep."

"No," Spock stopped, hand hovering over the terminal controls. "I was delayed in the simulator and I -- " her hand rose to the braid. "Ah, yes. It is somewhat difficult to deal with on my own. At home, there would be attendants and -- irrelevant." She turned around, sharper than before, and Nyota half-smiled. She'd embarrassed her. She still had trouble reading Spock at times, but that she could read loud and clear.

"I could help," she suggested, watching Spock work the terminal. She waited for Spock to glance her way before tugging on her own pony-tail. "Gaila does it for me."

Spock's gaze looked considering, then she nodded. "I would appreciate your assistance, Nyota." Her voice was soft as she spoke and then, maybe, a little sad as she said. "If you would like, my mother has a linguistic background. I have mentioned your work to her, she is intrigued, and -- "

She continued speaking, something about messages, but Nyota really didn't hear any of it. Not with the roaring in her ears that came with the pounding heart.

"You told your Mom about me?"

Spock paused, looking at her in confusion, as if Nyota were making absolutely no sense. "Indeed. We have spent a not-insignificant amount of time together in the past few months, Nyota. It would be quite difficult to keep Mother apprised of my activities without mention of you." Her cheeks tinged just the faintest bit green. "She is curious."

Nyota smiled. It was either that or bolt. "Oh, I just bet that she is." Spock might have been oblivious to her feelings, but Nyota didn't think the Lady Amanda would be quite so easily fooled.

Spock raised one eyebrow. "You object to the meeting?"

It wasn't anything that she said or did but Nyota had a feeling nonetheless. Spock was worried. About Nyota not liking her mother or her mother not liking Nyota didn't matter. She was scared, vulnerable, and the idea of Spock being either had Nyota feeling profound levels of both. Spock wasn't vulnerable. She wasn't scared. She was a Vulcan and she was perfect; an idea that, rationally, Nyota knew was ridiculous, but she wasn't feeling so rational at the moment.

"No," she said, forcing herself not to rush, not to sound defensive. "I'm just a little," she grinned, "nervous I guess."

"Ah, yes, meeting one's parents -- " Spock nodded. "Again a point I had not considered. Well, consider it reassurance that the Ambassador will not be present."

"He won't?" Nyota moved closer. "But why?"

The silence coming from Spock said everything as Nyota neared the screen. She looked at the message, skimming quickly, and found it cheerful, happy, but glaring in its absence.

"Your father's too busy to see you?" she asked. Somehow, she had a feeling that wasn't the case, but she had to ask anyway. She had the sense that was precisely what Nyota was looking for.

"No," Spock replied. "My father and I have not spoken since I left for the Academy. He disapproves of my choice and, as such, will not speak to me."

Spock's quiet, matter-of-fact statement rocked Nyota to the core. She started to turn, to take a moment and think about it, but she realized she couldn't turn away. Not now. Not with Spock, so very much a Vulcan lady at that moment, watching her with eyes that were anything but quiet or calm.

She stood beneath a tapestry and watched Nyota with a guarded expression. Nyota didn't know how much of their friendship was on the line at that moment, but she knew, undoubtedly that it was.

"You don't," she stopped, pressing her lips together. There was no delicate way to approach this with anyone, but especially not a Vulcan. With a deep breath to steady herself, Nyota focused on Spock again. "I'm sorry, it's not my place to ask."

"Perhaps not," Spock said, "however, I did volunteer the information, therefore the responsibility for its airing rests solely upon my shoulders. As does," she added, "your quite logical curiosity on the matter."

Nyota took a step closer. "It's just -- "

"Quite not what the media has depicted," Spock agreed. "It would not be. Such matters are of a personal nature, no Vulcan in a position to know of it would dare betray the confidence."

"The Rule of Silences," Nyota said in a murmur.

"Yes, precisely," Spock said. She sat and Nyota sat across from her then, thinking better of it, moved just a little to one side. Enough to remove herself from Spock's line of view. This would be difficult without the gaze of a virtual stranger judging every word. "Even by Vulcan standards, our estrangement is quite complicated and yet so very simple. My mother would say that Sarek's disapproval of my career choice lies with his disapproval of Starfleet. Ostensibly, he believes its military responsibilities conflict with its stated goals of exploration."

Nyota opened her mouth, ready to leap to Starfleet's defense, but her brain caught up with her ears and she realized what Spock was saying. "You think your mother is wrong."

"Indeed," Spock said, sighing. "She is a brilliant woman, but on the matter of my father and my relationship with him, her powers of observation are somewhat flawed. Familial relationships often cloud logical reasoning."

"No kidding." Nyota closed her eyes, laughing a little. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that aloud."

"Perhaps not," Spock said, her tone just ever so slightly fond, "however, it was not so disagreeable to hear it." Straightening, she squared her shoulders. "I believe my father's disapproval is far more basic. He is afraid."

"Because -- " Nyota stopped. This was Spock's story to tell.

"I am neither Vulcan nor Human," Spock's facial expression tightened. "Humans see me as alien. Vulcans look at me and see a pretender. The former is to be expected, my physical appearance is that of a Vulcan, but the latter is of concern. By my birth I am to assume a certain cultural role in Vulcan society, a position of leadership that will be difficult to maintain if said society does not accept me."

"And he thinks joining Starfleet is going to hurt your chances." Even before the _Kelvin_ disaster, Vulcans had been leery of Starfleet. Prior to Spock, the last Vulcan to willingly serve among Humans had been President T'Pol a century prior. Between the two women no other Vulcan had dared. "It's understandable."

"But still incorrect," Spock said. "My father wished that I would attend the Vulcan Science Academy. To appease him, I did apply, however -- " her eyes glinted with barely suppressed anger "-- the school's leadership and I disagreed on the matter of my existence.

Nyota winced. She could imagine how that went. "And Starfleet it was."

"Yes," Spock said. "Starfleet it was. It is the only logical conclusion. In the intervening time, I believe, my choice has borne out as the correct one. It is difficult for Sarek to accept that."

"Maybe," Nyota said, "or maybe it's just difficult for him to admit it."

Spock finally focused her gaze on Nyota again. Her expression softened, gentled, and she nodded. "Yes, I suppose that it would be. On the matter of children, even a Vulcan parent's logic may become unclear." With a soft gust of breath, Spock rose from the chair. "I repeat myself, I apologize. I believe -- "

"You're distracted," Nyota said. Her hand moved, fingers brushing Spock's sleeve, as close to a touch as she dared get. "There's no need to apologize for that. I think it's universal that, sometimes, parents have trouble understanding that their children grow up as much as, sometimes, children fail to see their parents as people with foibles are their own."

Spock's gaze fell, focusing on where Nyota's fingers brushed lightly against her sleeve. "Yes," she said, her murmur distracted and unfocused, "I believe that is often the case."

"Oh," Nyota looked down as well. "I'm sorry. I know Vulcan te-- " She started to pull her hand back, but quick as lightning Spock's turned and grasped hers. "If I've offended you -- "

"No," Spock assured, "You have not." Her fingers were fever-hot around Nyota's as her grip tightened, ever so slightly, and but remained so very gentle. Nyota loved Spock's hands. Long, slender fingers that bore light callouses (years of playing a lyre perhaps) which brushed her skin and raised goose-flesh in their wake. "You could not offend, Nyota. You have been -- " She stopped, her chest rising and falling with a slow, deliberate breath.

Nyota could imagine Spock's mind busily at work, poking and prodding at the buried emotions in an attempt to quantify them into something that might be communicated. She smiled and did her best to ignore the knots her nerves were busily tying themselves into.

"I hope so," Nyota said. "I don't think I can explain what you've been to me." She bit her lip, nerves getting the better of her. "Ever since that day we played together you've never been far from my thoughts." She felt her cheeks heat as she ducked her head. She didn't know how to say this, she hadn't intended on saying this, but it was spilling out nonetheless and, now that she was started, she couldn't stop. "It was a silly schoolgirl crush, but it was -- "

"Yes," Spock said, "I believe I experienced a similar emotional reaction." Her cheeks tinged green as she added, "I too dismissed it as a childish infatuation. I believe, at the time, such a description might have been correct. At the present time, however, I believe my feelings for you have grown far beyond such a simple description."

Shocked, Nyota looked up. "I'm sorry?"

There was no doubting it, this time, Spock's gaze was affectionate. "You question your influence upon me, Nyota? Or was I unclear again? I had thought my intentions were quite plainly stated, however -- " she gestured, waving a hand. "It is possible that they were not. I have erred in such fashion before."

Nyota coughed. "Well, no, I, uh, I just," she laughed, "I didn't think that Vulcans -- " Nyota fell silent. There just wasn't any delicate way to phrase it and, she hoped, the silence would do so instead.

"By and large, we do not," Spock replied. Still holding Nyota's hand, she led them to the sitting area. There, she sat on the sofa and gave Nyota a little tug, urging her down beside her. "It is true that same-sex pairings are rare amongst Vulcans, but they are not unheard of. I have been remiss in not making this clearer, Nyota. In retrospect, I see where my intimations were somewhat lacking, I apo--"

She stopped when Nyota pressed two fingers against her lips. "No," Nyota said, leaning in. "Don't apologize." She smiled. "I'd much rather the misunderstanding go this way than the other. In my imagination, this conversation went a very different way, if it even happened at all. Most of the time I just imagined you remaining totally oblivious to the way I look when you walk into a room."

Spock reached up, curling her fingers around Nyota's and pulling them from her lips. She then held both of Nyota's hands in her lap, pressed firmly against the soft fabric of her dress and the warmth of her thighs beneath it. "Do you think I could miss such a thing?" she asked, voice soft. "Your eyes shine, Nyota, in a way which the stars could not begin to compare. I do not know what this thing between us will bring, Nyota, I cannot and would not make any attempt to surmise. At this moment the entirety of it rests within your control and any furtherance of it will be your choice."

She hesitated for only the briefest of moments before adding, "I know what choice I would make. However, it is not my future you would endanger, my path is set and I will walk it as those who came before. I would have you walk it with me as my mother walks with my father, but it is early yet and I should not speak in that way. Not with the completion of your training lying yet before you."

Nyota nodded. "The regulations are -- "

"Careful, exacting, but I believe negotiable. Starfleet is not the organizations of yesteryear for your world or mine." Spock tipped her head. Her braid slipped over her shoulder, hanging down over the creamy fabric of her dress. Nyota's eyes watched it and she imagined unworking the braid, running fingers through it, and when she looked up, Spock was almost smiling. "It will not be without effort, however, I think the effort worth it."

Nyota closed her eyes. "I would be lying to say I don't want to. I think I've been in love with you since before I knew what it was."

"And yet you have reservations," Spock said. She didn't _seem_ hurt. There didn't seem to be anything hidden in her voice, but Nyota felt unsure nonetheless.

"It's not that," she said, biting her lip. "It's that I don't want to fail." Not when it came to Spock. Never Spock. She leaned forward, matching Spock's posture, feeling Spock's breath feather against her cheek. "What if it's still just that childhood crush? I don't want to promise reality and hand you a dream." Nyota laughed, shaking her head. "Oh my god, I can't believe I'm saying this. I sound so -- " Laughing again, she forced herself to look at Spock. "I don't do this. I don't say things like this, I don't, this isn't me and yet it is and what are you doing to me?"

Spock's eyebrow rose, gentle, and this time, the corners of her lips did cant upward. "I believe I could ask the same of you. Perhaps we may try to discover this together?"

She released Nyota's hands, bringing one of hers up, two fingers extended. It was a gesture that radiated ritual and, Nyota thought, she'd seen it before. Spock's own parents at that reception so many years ago.

Her hand unsteady, she matched Spock's with her own. "I believe we may try."

Spock nodded. "Sufficient."

It was probably the least romantic response that Nyota could have imagined and, yet, she'd never heard anything more so.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," she confessed with a laugh.

Spock's eyes gleamed. "Nor do I. It is most exhilarating, Nyota. However do you stand it?"

Nyota grinned. "I find this helps." That said, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against Spock's. The kiss was almost chaste, possibly even Spock's first, but heat still shot through her nonetheless.

When they broke apart, both breathing hard, she smiled. "Well?"

"Yes," Spock agreed, "Immensely, however, I believe I will require more of the same."

"Oh, absolutely," Nyota nodded. "As much as possible is best."

"A wise suggestion," Spock said.

"I borrowed that one from a friend," Nyota said. She sat back, letting herself have a moment to catch up, and smiled. "Gaila is never going to let me hear the end of this."

"Is that a complaint?"

"Not even close."


End file.
